The Connivers of Bosmora
by redsrock
Summary: A story based in Mournhold, and a city to the southeast called "Bosmora".
1. Chapter 1

iPrologue/i

iPrologue/i

"No, anyone but him, Velanda. Surely you have another suggestion."

"No, I don't, Lord Helseth. Not if you want the very best."

King Hlaalu Helseth and his councilors were discussing a matter of utmost importance, directly involving the Great House Hlaalu. Eerie happenings were taking place in the city of Balmora, the district seat of The House. One month ago a member of House Hlaalu went missing. An investigation was of course conducted by hired investigators, but nothing came up. The case was eventually ruled that the member, in this case a low-rank Dunmer, had simply ran away to an unknown location.

However, just two weeks ago two more members went missing, and again the disappearances took place in Balmora. Now the leaders of House Hlaalu have since then taken the matter very seriously, and have also since then become very angry. For one, they are upset because the previous investigators were obviously wrong. And two, they are now going to be forced in hiring the one many they had exiled long ago.

"You do know Sirius is currently a struggling merchant in Caldera, correct? The last I heard, his little business was on the verge of collapsing, and that was two years ago."

"Yes, but agents never forget their trade, my lord," Mistress Velanda Omani claimed.

Helseth stood up from his chair and walked over to a wall and stared at one of his paintings. It was a large picture of him and an Imperial, both grinning from ear to ear. The two were once ivery/i good friends. About a month after that same painting was created something happened, something awful and unexplainable. Now the two haven't spoken in nearly four years. Helseth didn't want to make contact with him, but he knew it was the only way to ensure success.

"But he's a traitor, Velanda. You know this," Helseth said, still looking at the painting.

"That is true, my lord, but I'll have to agree with Velanda on this one," Master Crassius Curio announced. "Something is happening in Balmora; something that needs to be dealt with swiftly."

"That is right, my lord," Master Yngling Half-Troll said in agreement. "Unfortunately I don't see any other option."

The king of Morrowind turned his head and walked back to his chair and sat down. "What are your opinions?" He asked towards Master Dram Bero, and Mistress Nevena Ules, the remaining Councilors who had yet to speak.

"I won't lie; I do NOT want to hire the scoundrel," Nevena said. "But, as Yngling has just mentioned, I don't see any other way around this either. We have to contact him, my lord. He is the only one capable of the job it seems. The others failed, and I doubt you'll be talking to them ever again."

"Oh no," Helseth said, sort of chuckling afterwards. "They'll be lucky to still be alive next week. Because of those fools I've lost three members, all with the potential of becoming wonderful assets to The House," He said, referring to the previous investigators who had failed.

"I don't want to have anything to do with the piece of scum. He almost destroyed everything we've strived for, and now you want to re-hire him? That is ludicrous!"

It was obvious to everyone that Master Dram Bero didn't agree with them. His anger was obvious, but Dram doesn't even like foreigners anyhow. None of the Councilors did very much, but Dram's hatred was purest.

"Then what do you suggest we do, Dram? It is easy to sit there and complain, you know," Velanda said harshly.

"I don't want a traitor working for us! That doesn't even make any sense! Just think about it!"

"There is no other way, Dram! And again I ask you, what do you suggest?"

Master Bero sat there with his arms crossed, angry because he knew he wasn't going to get his wish. Deep down inside he knew it was the only way. He just didn't want admit it.

"Fine, do what you want. But don't come crying to me when he stabs us in the back once more!" He then stood up from his chair and walked out the door, slamming it forcefully behind him.

"What a damn child!" Velanda exclaimed. "It's a wonder how grown beings can act so immature and selfish!"

"So…it's agreed?" Helseth asked the remaining councilors, ignoring the argument involving Velanda and Dram.

One by one they reluctantly nodded their heads. They didn't want to do it, but they also didn't want to see anyone else vanish.

"Very well, then. I'll send a courier immediately."


	2. Chapter 2

iCHAPTER ONE/i

iCHAPTER ONE/i

After the other councilors had left and gone back to Vvardenfell to their respective homes, Helseth closed his doors and told his servants to let ino one/i in. The King needed some time to think alone, without the bickering and arguing that had ensued during the meeting.

Before they left, the councilors and Helseth had debated on how the letter should be worded. After a few minutes of debate, they iall/i decided to disguise everything. The address of the letter would link to a fake person from the city of Vivec. The letter would speak of a generous offer of gold from a friendly Breton, who himself would be made up. Sirius was always a sucker for money, and the councilors knew he wouldn't be able to deny the offer, especially in his current economic state.

It was very ironic that the reason Helseth would be contacting the Imperial, was the same reason he had exiled him long ago. All of the pain from those days still cropped up from time to time, but all in all Helseth had for the most part dismissed all of those feelings. But now that their man-of-the-hour was soon to walk the streets of Mournhold once more; Sirius Mero was coming home…

"I'm not going to budge on this one, Sirius. Either you give me the money now or I will shut down your shop altogether. I've let you slip by without having to pay anything for one whole year, and yet you still don't have any money to show me."

"Business has been slow this year, I…I just haven't been able to gain enough money to repay you."

In all honesty, business for the lonely Imperial ihad/i been slow all year. But that still doesn't explain all the empty beer bottles lying around his small home just inside the city gates. Even though Sirius himself is very manipulative and is very good with words, he wasn't going to be able to weasel himself out of this one.

"No money, eh? How do you explain those?" The Breton, Malpen, said. Malpen was the local government's tax-collector. And then without letting Sirius finish he continued. "You run a clothing shop, Sirius, and an expensive one at that. How do you explain not having enough money to pay me? What the hell have you been doing, spending all the money on booze?"

Sirius is a heavy drinker, there's no doubting that, and perhaps on the verge of becoming the town-drunk if he didn't act quickly. Of course not iall/i of the money has been spent on beer and wine. It has also been used to pay for his secret-love of women. But there's no way he'll tell Malpen about that. Oh no, he'd run Sirius out of town, iafter/i taking what money the Imperial did have.

"I…I just don't have the money, Malpen. I swear, just give me six more months. I swear I'll have the money, and then some."

Malpen was now stuck between a rock and hard place, so-to-speak. The tax collector knew Sirius probably wasn't very good for his word. On the other-hand, his store idoes/i bring in more money than anyone else.

"I'll give you one option, Sirius. I will let you have six more months, ibut/i, if you do not have enough money when the time is up I will throw you in jail for tax evasion. You do know that Governor Dillon thinks that is exactly what you are doing, correct? They have no clue I've let you slide. Also, you will give me seventy-five percent of your earnings from here on out. If you don't take this offer, I will take your shop away and what money you ido/i have, forcing you to start all over. I'm sure you wouldn't want that. So, what's it going to be, Sirius?" Malpen said, his long Imperial black hair flapping in the wind.

Sirius didn't like the option, but he didn't feel like giving up his business either. But what else was he going to do? There was also the option of running away to another city, but then again that would be starting over as well. Plus, Sirius wasn't a coward. "I imagine that seventy-five percent won't be going government, right?" he asked, trying to stall for time.

Malpen just continued to wait impatiently. "Just answer the question, Sirius."

"I'll take it."

The sun was setting on the magical city of Mournhold when the letter was finally written, edited, and then written all over again. Hlaalu Helseth wasn't sure too sure what to say at first, and it took him all day to write the damn thing.

Words usually never failed the King of Morrowind, but today his mind had been frozen. The letter to Sirius had to be perfect, and nothing less. Helseth knew this, and that's why it had taken him so long to write it. And to add to it, the letter had to be fake, and that was a challenge in its own. It was hard making up everything. But now, after editing it for the last time, he was satisfied with its contents.

iDear Sirius Mero,

My name is Catolino Balvicci, but you may call me Cato. I have come under the impression from a friend of mine in Caldera that you are currently having some money issues. What I have come to realize is that, despite your money woes, you really do have the potential to run a successful business. My friend has told me that your store has attracted far more people than anyone else. I would like to extend a hand in helping you recover.

I am an entrepreneur of sorts, and have helped finance many striving merchants in Cyrodiil. I came to Morrowind just a few weeks ago to find work here, and my friend, Sabatha the Khajiit, immediately told me of your situation. She holds you in high regard actually.

I am willing to offer you twenty-thousand septims. This should be more than enough to pay your debts, and it will also let you buy some nifty new products to attract even more patrons. I know all of must sound like a dream to you, but fortunately for you it is not. Talk to Sabatha, and you will see this bis/b real. She will explain everything, and even give you my address. I would do it myself, but I fear I do not trust the mailing system just yet!

I look forward to seeing you my friend, and until then, good luck!

Sincerely,

Cato/i

Simple, but to the point. Helseth worked work hard at getting the Khajiit to agree to help, and a lot of septims at that. Sabatha was a cunning individual herself it seemed, there wasn't a doubt in Helseth's mind that the deal wouldn't be accepted by Sirius.

And then once he idoes/i make it to the fake location, which was going to be the Foreign Quarter in Vivec, he would be instantly tracked by several of Helseth's agents. Once Sirius realizes he's been tricked, he'll trek back to Caldera, and on the way back in the wilderness he will be ambushed and kidnapped by the agents, and then immediately transported to Mournhold's dungeons. Helseth knew Sirius hated Silt Striders, and that was Morrowind's only transportation system. The King had already instructed his guards to alert him as soon as the Imperial arrives.

So he then folded the letter and carefully placed it in an envelope, and then fastened a fancy seal to close the envelope, but nothing that would trace the letter back to Helseth of course. He called for the courier and then said, "Deliver this immediately to Sirius of Caldera. You'll find his clothing shop just past the gates. This is very important, so use this scroll to get there without delay. Hurry, please."

The Breton courier gave Helseth a curious look, but then left almost as soon as he had arrived.


	3. Chapter 3

iCHAPTER TWO/i

iCHAPTER TWO/i

As soon as the annoying tax-collector left his house, Sirius went back inside, closed his doors, and immediately knocked back a couple of beers in matter of several minutes. His only option had already been laid out before him, but he didn't like it one iota. Though he was given yet another deadline, he had a bad feeling he wasn't going to make this one either. He was giving up too much to gain too little, at least in his opinion anyways.

iseventy-five percent of my earnings from here on out?/i he thought angrily to himself. He absolutely hated Malpen for taking advantage of him like that, for he knew the shady Imperial was going to pocket the money for himself.

But no matter how much he hated Malpen, he had nobody to blame but himself for the position he was in, and deep down inside Sirius knew this. The broken and empty bottles scattered throughout the shop told the sad story of the once-prestigious special-agent for House Hlaalu. For many years he roamed the halls of Mournhold Palace, a hero in every eye, and a model for almost as many. But that was long ago. Those days were over, not that Sirius cared. He had his fun playing spy, but when the unthinkable happened and he was betrayed by his own best friend, things drastically changed for the worst. However, Sirius didn't like contemplating those events. He wanted to forget the past and move on. Of course, that was easier said than done.

No more than a few minutes after he was finished drinking his alcohol, a knock came from outside. Sirius assumed Malpen was back to agitate him some more, and he angrily stomped over to the door and opened it with great aggression.

"What the hell do you want now?" he yelled loudly as he opened the door. But to his surprise it was inot/i Malpen, but rather a different Breton, this one very scrawny and making a unpleasant expression about his face, no doubt smelling the odor of beer coming from Sirius's breath.

"…A message from the city of Vivec, sir…" The Breton said wearily. He was careful not to sound suspicious, carefully instructed by Helseth of course. The courier really had to sell the act, and it appeared he had done just that.

Sirius took the envelope, thanked the messenger with no emotion, and then closed the door without waiting for a reply. He belched loudly for a few seconds, and then sat down at his office desk. After cutting the seal with a small pocket knife he took out the letter and read it to himself:

iDear Sirius Mero,

My name is Catolino Balvicci, but you may call me Cato. I have come under the impression from a friend of mine in Caldera told me that you are currently having some money issues. What I have come to realize is that, despite your money woes, you really do have the potential to run a successful business. My friend has told me that your store has attracted far more people than anyone else. I would like to extend a hand in helping you recover.

I am an entrepreneur of sorts, and have helped finance many striving merchants in Cyrodiil. I came to Morrowind just a few weeks ago to find work here, and my friend, Sabatha the Khajiit, immediately told me of your situation. She holds you in high regard actually.

I am willing to offer you twenty-thousand septims. This should be more than enough to pay your debts, and it will also let you buy some nifty new products to attract even more patrons. I know all of must sound like a dream to you, but fortunately for you it is not. Talk to Sabatha, and you will see this bis/b real. She will explain everything, and even give you my address. I would do it myself, but I fear I do not trust the mailing system just yet!

I look forward to seeing you my friend, and until then, good luck!

Sincerely,

Cato/i

Sirius's first thought was "what the hell?" He wasn't too sure what to think, because of all this was happening out of the blue. This 'Catolino Balvicci' was a suspicious-sounding character, although the proposed offer was more than tempting. But could he trust the man? That was the question. He threw the letter down and downed a few more beers. He was now more confused than ever…

"Yes, my lord, he took the letter. Although I could smell a strong odor of beer coming from his breath, if that means anything."

iSome thing never change/i King Helseth thought to himself. "No, actually it doesn't. I'm not really that surprised, for he's always been attached to alcohol. Anyways, thank you for sending the message. You may retire for the night."

The courier bowed slightly and then left the room in hurry, closing the door behind him, happy to finally rest. Helseth immediately sat in his chair and began thinking about the situation. The letter was given to Sirius, and now the only thing to do was wait, and hope that the Imperial takes the bait. His agents were already in Vivec, anxiously standing by in the lobby of an old inn in the Foreign Quarter. They were professional agents, two Dunmer and one Altmer. The three had been trained at an early age and were the best Mournhold had to offer.

Helseth was also a bit weary about the Khajiit, Sabatha. Yesterday his agents had sworn that the cat was trustworthy, but Helseth always had his doubts. However, that is why he offered so much gold to Sabatha. And if she was smart she wouldn't idare/i double-cross the King. Either way, it was only a matter of time until Sirius was standing in Helseth's office one more.

But what would happen then? The King of Morrowind himself knew the situation was going to be awkward, no matter how much he'd prepare. Deep down he knew this situation would come up eventually, and yet he was still afraid. The hard feelings of the past were still certainly present, but there was also a hint of remorse coming from the King. Even though Sirius deserved what he had received long ago, the man's life had been ruined by the exile.

It would be an awkward scene indeed…

At around eight o'clock that night Sirius got the sudden urge to walk over to Sabatha's house and probe her with questions. The letter had explained that he needed to talk with the Khajiit to learn all of the details, and that is exactly what he was doing. He still wasn't too sure about all of this, but then again he really did need the money, and there was really only one way to find out if everything was true.

"Who is it?" Sabatha asked seconds later after hearing a knock outside her door. When the Khajiit opened the door, she cracked it slightly, peering out with her yellow eyes hoping that it wasn't another one of Helseth's agents.

"It's Sirius, from down the street. I have some questions I'd like to ask you.

iOh god, he's here…/i Sabatha whispered out loud.

The three agents had arrived at her house early yesterday morning, quite early in fact. They stated their proposal and Sabatha at first though she was dreaming. But after seeing the shining gold coins she knew it was anything ibut/i a dream. The agents didn't mention who their master was, but she didn't care. She'd do just about anything for the gold, which was fifteen-hundred up front, and the another twenty-five hundred after the deed was done.

"Oh, Sirius, of course! Come on in!"

She had been constantly practicing ever since the agents left yesterday. She was supposed to act like she knew this 'Catolino Balvicci', and that he was a good friend of hers looking for some business over at Vivec. Sabatha had read the file on the fake business-man, and she was totally prepared. Once Sirius explained what he wanted, and the letter, she started working her magic.

"Yes, I am glad he sent you the letter! I told him all about your situation, and he was happy offer a lending hand. He really is a wonderful man, Sirius. Are you going to take him up on the offer?"

"I don't know," Sirius said, a little confused by the Khajiit's extreme cheeriness. "I don't really even know where to find the man."

"Oh, right now he's staying in Odie's Inn, in the Foreign Quarter of Vivec."

iAn inn?/i Sirius thought to himself. iWhy the hell would a man of his prestige be living at an inn?/i

"Very well, I will make a visit tomorrow night. Though I do have one more question. How do you know this man?"

The Khajiit kept her cheerful smile and replied, "Why, he finances my mother and father's jewelry store in Cyrodiil. He's been a family friend for many years, and I wouldn't trust anyone else more than I do him. He's really a wonderful man, Sirius."

Sirius left the Khajiit's more confused than before, if that was even possible. He was still a bit suspicious about everything, but Sabatha seemed to be a real fan of this Catolino. He'd have to see for himself tomorrow.


End file.
